


Count My Sins

by thepirateandhisprincess



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: 4x13 spoilers, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 17:15:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3496394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepirateandhisprincess/pseuds/thepirateandhisprincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma's not quite sure what Killian is hiding - or how she's supposed to feel about it. Based on spoiler clips for 4x13.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Count My Sins

"I don’t know what else to say."

His response stuns Emma for a moment, arms instinctively rising to cross protectively against her chest, fingers digging into the soft fabric of her shirt as she leans back in her chair. Across from her, Killian fidgets nervously, ringed fingers twisting around the metal of his hook as he steadfastly avoids her eyes. Emma swallows, her tongue wetting her suddenly dry lips, a knot of nervous energy replacing the hunger she felt earlier. She feels antsy but forces herself to sit still, regarding Killian with a slight tilt of her head. 

"What does that mean?"

She tries not to let it come out defensive, she really does, but something about his evasion of her question has set her on edge; has triggered her superpower and her brain is screaming at her that there is so much more he could say but he won’t. She thought they were beyond this; beyond secrets and lies by omission.

( _"I’m tired of living in the past"_  and  _"Of course I trust you"_  float through her mind and she had always thought he felt the same, but god, had she ever actually asked?)

"Swan," says Killian hesitantly, his eyes finally rising to meet hers, and it shocks her, the depth of pain and self-loathing she sees within them, the regret as deep as the seas he sailed for centuries.

(It’s the self-loathing she soothed with kisses and soft words in the dead of night during the last six weeks; the pain of not being enough, of not deserving the title of hero, of not truly belonging in the only home he has left)

"Swan," he says again and she wants so badly to reach for him, but she can’t, not yet, not until she’s heard what he has to say. "I don’t…"

He sighs again, his hand reaching to run through his hair in frustration. Emma rubs her hand absently up and down her still crossed arms, trying to sort out the myriad of emotions swirling in her brain. She’s confused and hurt, somewhat angry, and more than a little unsettled. 

"Killian?" Emma stares at him as he shuffles back and forth. He opens his mouth, before changing his mind and closing it again. His fist clenches at his side and Emma tilts her head as she considers him, one eyebrow inching its way up her forehead.

"Two and a half centuries of piracy comes with its fair share of regrets," says Killian, the words tumbling out in a rush. His eyes are closed now and his brow is furrowed. "Some more serious than others."

And suddenly Emma’s heart hurts for her pirate, for this man who has been through hell and back more than once, weighed down with his hundreds of years filled with thousands of memories. She’s been so busy hiding behind her own walls that she never really thought about how many Killian has of his own.

(And in that moment, she thinks she loves him, but now is not the time to contemplate the nature of her feelings, not when he’s looking like that, like he expects her to hate him, to run from him like she’s done before)

She moves then, unfolding her limbs from the chair as she approaches Killian, slowly, warily, as though he’s a skittish puppy, as though one false move will send him running. She doesn’t say anything as she reaches for him, arms going up to wrap around his neck, his head dropping into the space between her shoulder and her jaw. He sighs, warm and soft against her skin, and his hand and hook tentatively come up to her waist. He nudges her neck with his nose, planting a soft kiss over her pulse point. 

"I trust you, Killian," whispers Emma into the soft leather of his jacket, sliding her arms down to wrap around his waist. His head lifts from her neck and she turns her head upward to look in his eyes. He meets her gaze with some reluctance, his hands still on her waist, but loosely, as though he’s not sure if he’s allowed to hold her. "And I hope you trust me too."

"There is no one I trust more than you, love," says Killian, and he’s not lying, but Emma can tell he’s still not willing to share. With a sigh, she extracts herself from his arms, stepping back as Killian’s arms drop limply to his side. Emma breathes in deep, the smell of grilled cheese and onion wafting past her nose, and that’s right, her stupidly perfect boyfriend had brought her food and he had remembered she wanted onion rings instead of fries, and it had felt so  _normal_ and  _right._

(The man he is now is not the man he was then. She knows his past is shady, that she won’t like what she hears, but he is  _good_  and a  _hero_  and she’ll be damned if he can’t see it)

"We don’t know everything about each other," says Emma slowly, toying with the shoelace around her wrist as her gaze flits from her wrist to his shoulder, to his eyes and back around again. "But I think… I think that’s okay. Our pasts are our pasts and a lot of times they’re not pretty, but they’re a part of us, you know?"

"Emma," says Killian weakly. "The things I’ve done, some of them are bloody unforgivable."

"I told you once that I was tired of living in the past, Killian. And I meant it."

He opens his mouth reluctantly, hand jumping to scratch at that spot behind his ear. He starts to speak, but Emma cuts him off. 

"We don’t need to talk about it now," she says, a small smile making its way across her face, eyebrows scrunched together in sympathy. "Just don’t shut me out altogether, okay? We’re a team, Killian." 

"I know," says Killian, his eyes soft and Emma feels warm. He reaches out to tangle her fingers in his. "Thank you, love." 

And Emma nods, the knot in her stomach not entirely gone but looser now, more manageable.  

"C’mon," says Emma, leading him back to her desk, clicking open the video that has finally loaded. There’s a slight awkwardness in the air and they still need to talk, but there will be time for that. "Let’s see what these guys are up to."

They’re thirty seconds into the video when she hears Killian sigh. She raises her head from where she’s had it propped on her fist, glancing back at him. He’s fiddling with his hook again, but when her eyes land on him he meets her gaze and holds it.

"I’m sorry," says Killian, and he doesn’t elaborate but his hand comes forward to rest on her shoulder, his thumb drawing soothing patterns on the skin of her neck. She gives him a small smile before turning back to the computer.

The air isn’t clear, not by any means, but Emma feels strangely reassured. She can count the number of people she fully trusts on one hand, but Killian - she trusts him completely. She still feels antsy, but she pushes the feeling away. His scars are his own. He’ll show her when he’s ready. 

(It’s not much of a solution, but it’s a start. And for now, that’s good enough)


End file.
